


I Used To Be A Spy

by ScarletteAsh



Category: Burn Notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteAsh/pseuds/ScarletteAsh
Summary: Michael Westen used to be a spy until, well you know that part of the story. Here is the part where he's a father of sorts, a husband to Fiona, and a reunited with Sam and Jesse, and up to their old antics.This takes place years after the series finale.
Relationships: Fiona Glenanne/Michael Westen, Jesse Porter/Michael Westen, Sam Axe/Michael Westen
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

“My name is Michael Westen, I used to be a spy.”  
“What’s a spy, Uncle?”  
Michael contemplated the extent he could explain all of this to his 8 year old nephew. Fiona said it was time he fill in gaps for Charlie, now that his young mind was asking questions.  
Holding in his sigh, he hugged his nephew close. “Mac{son}, let’s talk about the spy business later, but remember,” he raised his finger to his lips, winking, and continued, “it’s our secret.”  
Charlie smiled, wiggling with excitement.  
“Dadaí, cathain a bheidh m’ uncaailí anseo?”  
Michael chuckled, “Remember, speak Béarla{English} when your Uncle’s Sam and Jesse arrive.”  
His nephew’s Irish Gaelic was far more advanced than his own, matching Fi’s.  
A tear threatened to emerge on the rim of his eyes, thinking of the five years that passed since he’d seen his best friends, his teaghlach{family}.”  
“Come, Cathal-I mean, Charlie, let’s go ride.” Michael hoped the ride through the meadow would clear his head and his jitters.  
Charlie popped up off the sofa and raced out to the horse barn, eager to saddle up their Irish Cob.  
Michael resisted the urge to smile, allowing it to relax his face.

Cold. Heartless. Detached.  
These were words his closest friends used to describe him five years ago. While offensive, it was the truth. It had hurt to hear that, but only minorly. He had buried the hurt with the rest of his feelings. Truth be told, he reveled in that skill of his, to be heartless and single-minded. His goal was to be the best spy, and he felt he had accomplished this. In all reality, it didn’t matter who was calling the shots, as long as the outcome was the same: do good, take down the bad guys. Now he shuddered at his faulty reasoning of the past. It took dramatic circumstances for him to see the glaring truth, he had become the bad guy.  
As he led their horse carefully along, Charlie giggled excitedly. “Remember to hold on,” Michael ordered, trying to keep his mind on the present, though he trusted their horse to stay calm and give Charlie a smooth ride.  
Why did Fi wish to resurrect the past and muck up their clear and happy life? Michael planned on being honest with his son. How could he do so without dredging up old mistakes, big mistakes? Was Michael worthy to be a father?  
“Daidi?”  
Michael looked up at his son, whose face showed concern. “What is it mac?”  
“My other daidi… what was he like?”  
Michael halted. More pain, more difficult explanations. Michael prayed he wouldn’t mention Michael’s own mother, Madeline as well. Michael’s throat constricted. Clearing it some, he loosened the reins and put his arm around Charlie’s back. “You’re real daidí, my deartháir{brother}, was a hero.”  
Charlie smiled sympathetically and patted Michael on the head, which made them both chuckle. How an eight year old was so insightful, he didn’t understand. But then again, Nate was always the tender hearted one out of the two throughout their lives, for which Michael was grateful for. Tender and caring, even sprinkled with much foolishness, was far better than cold and heartless. Those poor qualities took time to root out from his heart, to rid himself of his ego.  
“Daidí?” Charlie asked, furrowing his brow.  
“Yes, mac?” Michael went to the front of the horse and resumed leading the horse Paistí{Patches} along.  
“Are we Irish, or American?” The boy's voice was full of curiosity. “Also, why does Cad want me to learn your secrets? Are they not secrets for a reason?”  
Speechless, Michael rubbed the back of his neck. His boy was more than insightful, he was, words Michael couldn’t think of. “You’re auntie, or Cad, wants to have open communication with each other. While there are matters we want to keep private, there should be no secrets between eachus. But they are a secret to people who are not family.” Michael hesitated, “Does that make sense?”  
“Sort of,” Charlie replied thoughtfully.  
Michael grinned, knowing Charlie did not understand but was being polite. “Your mother only wants the best for you and for me, and so do I.”  
Confidently Charlie insisted, “I know that, Daidí.”  
Michael considered Charlie’s other question. Charlie had been American. Until Nate lost his life and Michael obliterated the life his mother had created for Charlie and herself. Guilt clouded Michael, weighing heavily upon his shoulders and chest.  
As if feeling the heavy weight and wanting to lift it from Michael, Charlie chimed in, “I know I’m Irish, and I’m glad.”  
Michael peered back and gave Charlie a kind smile, grateful for the son who changed his life.  
It seemed like only yesterday that his burn notice was issued. He was put in a compromised and deadly scenario, hardly able to escape with his life. Thankfully he was used to difficult situations because of growing up with his abusive father.  
When he got the phone call that he was burned, though, that was more painful than the beating to follow. More painful than waking up in his hometown, Miami, with no cash, no credit, no job history. His entire reputation, his mission in life, destroyed without so much as a warning or explanation.  
When he was burned, his life was ripped from him. He wasted seven years trying to figure out who burned him and get back into the game, only to find out it was his very mentor who pulled the strings, and then attempted to end him for good.  
Though now, 12 years later, Michael knew it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was reunited with the people most important to him. Fiona, the feisty and passionate love of his life. Sam, the buddy who was loyal to the bone, as long as you regularly supplied him with beer. Jesse, determined, hard working, and kind hearted. Madeline… the mother he loved and missed with his entire being, how he took her for granted, and yet she never stopped trying to be close to him. Even sacrificing her life to save his. Nathan, the kid brother who never stopped trying to prove he was as good as his “big bro” and lost his life in the process. These people worked hard to get close to him and it took seven years before he allowed them into his heart fully, before he almost lost himself.  
A chill ran down Michael’s spine to think of James and the crew he was caught up with before Fiona, Sam and Jesse literally plotted against Michael to save him from a depraved life. One where he took out bad guys but under no authority. He shook his head and brought the horse to the barn, a wave of thankfulness washing through him.


	2. An Old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading this story!   
> I watched this show when it first premiered but only watched it all the way through last year.   
> It was heart breaking but also heart touching and motivated me to write this.

Fiona stood, arms crossed and brow furrowed. "How far did you get?"   
Charlie was sprawled across the carpet playing with his toy cars, a few remaining items left from his grandmother, Madeline.  
“Fi, it’s not that simple. Before I can dive into covert ops.. I have to sit and explain what each word is. He is 8 years old, he won’t comprehend any of this.”  
“Mícheál, now is the time. Tell him to sit and listen, to ask questions later.”  
Now Michael was the one to frown. Her demands felt unreasonable. “Did we not escape that life to shelter him? To live life asking questions, to know what we are doing and why?”  
Her mouth twisted, then with a face of surrender, she dropped her arms to her sides. “You’re right. I wanted to play catch up in time for Sam and Jesse to arrive, but that’s simply not possible.”  
Michael grabbed her loose arms and pulled her in close. Kissing her forehead gently and lingering there.  
Pulling away he said, “I will, when the time is right. He’ll know more of his heroic aithair{father} and seanmháthair{grandmother}. They did not give their lives in vain.”  
Fi smiled up at him, gently kissing his neck. Swiftly she pulled from him and grabbed the car keys. “Shall we head out?”  
Michael plucked the keys from her grasp. “I’ll drive. C’mon Cathal-Charlie,let’s go get your uncles.”  
“We should’ve called him Charlie all these years, it would be less confusing for everyone.”  
“You think we’d get away with calling an Irish boy by an American name ‘round here?” Michael smirked, opening the car door for Fiona.  
“Likely no.” She gently swung down into the small car.  
Once Charlie was buckled, the three drove down to the Newcastle Aerodrome.  
Michael watched intently as the small plane landed on the small strip. The three familiar faces emerged out of the plane, Jesse, Sam, and Sam’s wife, Elsa.  
Even from their hundred yards distance, he could clearly hear the shrill tone in Elsa’s voice.  
Jesse carried the large load down toward the small Opel Corsa, a super mini car.  
Tears ebbed at Michaels eyes and he broke out into a sprint, his scarf falling to the ground. The impact with Jesse was hard but reassuring. Sam came upon him and momentarily held Mike’s face until he hugged him.  
“It’s good to see you, brother.”  
The three men were silent, choked up by memories and tears.  
Elsa interrupted, “I hate to break this special moment, but Michael, you couldn’t have chosen a secure airport that included a stable, larger plane?”  
Michael grinned, grateful for the humorous moment to stop his emotions from fully taking over. “My apologies, I assure you it won’t be bumpy from here on out.”  
Jesse cocked his head curiously. “Is the accent... is this the new you?”  
“Aye it ‘tis, Fiona Cathal-Charlie and I, all speak Irish Gaelic. But we will keep it mostly to English for our guests.”  
The group approached the car, Fi stood behind her open passenger side door. Her smile was warm and electrifying at the same time.  
“How’d you hooligans get in my country?”  
“Get over here!” Sam ordered, holding out his arms.  
Fiona stepped out from the shield of the door and Jesse and Sam eyed each other, Michael, then Fiona.  
“There’s an Irish bun in your oven!” Jesse hollered, whooping.  
Fiona embraced Sam, then Jesse, and Michael noticed a blush flush across her face.  
Sam patted Michael, “Good job brother.”  
“Thanks, Sam.”  
“I hate to interrupt this moment, but how are we all getting back in this tiny thing?” Elsa examined the small red vehicle.  
“This one’s just like your one back home Fi.” Sam notes, joining in on the examining.  
“We’ve got you covered.” Michael said, pointing as a limo approached the dirt road.  
Elsa grinned, “Sorry for being extra.”  
Sam shrugged and carried the luggage over to the large vehicle. “Nothing’s too extra for my lady.”  
Jesse and Michael eyed each other, Jesse whispering, “That lady takes care of Sam, in ways I cannot even mention.” Jesse visibly shuddered.  
Michael put his arm around Jesse, “Let’s not speak of such disturbing things.”

Michael, Fiona, Jesse and Charlie waited at Phil Healy’s Pub, while Sam got Elsa situated at the The Bridge Tavern hotel. Wicklow was a small quaint town Michael and Fi had settled in.  
“How’s life been Jesse?” Michael asked, taking a large sip of his dark beer.  
“Y’all have really embraced the Irish life, eh?”  
“Canadians say, eh, not my people.” Fi scoffed, sipping her iced sweet tea. Turning to Charlie she asked, “Would you like some crayons and paper?”  
“Yes please, Cad{ma}.”  
“It was the only way. Besides, domestic life has grown on us.” Michael said, pleasantly. It was true. He had begun working as a horse breeder for a long time family in Wicklow. They kept their heads down and played the role of a small town rural family. They met with a few members of Fiona’s family, but only occasionally.   
“So how does this work?” Jesse pointed his finger between Michael, Fi and Charlie. “Does he call you dad, uncle, mom?”  
Fi let out a sigh. “It’s complicated... He calls Michael Uncle in English, but dad in Irish Gaelic. I’m simply Cad, which is the same as Ma in English.”  
“Yup, complicated. I shouldn’t have asked.” Jesse took a swig of his drink.  
A smile remained on Michael’s face, his friend appeared to be the same person, humorous, loyal and honest.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much man, it’s almost creeping me out.” Jesse smiled, genuine happiness in his eyes.  
“So, is there a Mrs.Porter out there?” Michael raised his eyebrows to Jesse.  
Jesse shrugged. Before he could answer, men shouting interrupted him. In the far corner of the pub, pool sticks were thrown and a large man began shoving a smaller, punk kid.  
Instantly the three of them stood, but Michael stared at Fi. She stood down, looking to her stomach, as if then remembering the little one growing within her.  
The large man, likely the leader, glared in their direction, but ignored them. Grabbing the young Man by the throat, he shouted, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear, “I don’t want to see you around here, until I git my money. And there’s no one here to protect you if you show up empty handed.”  
The kid shot up and scrambled out the door.  
Michael’s phone rang moments later. “Hey Sam, everything okay? Yep, alright, we’ll be right out.”  
Fi and Jesse looked at him expectantly.  
“Appears we’ve got a job to work together. Sam encountered the kid we saw fly outta here.”  
“Shall we shoot them, Michael?” Fi grinned, Michael unable to hide his own that appeared.


	3. You Know Spies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the kudos :)

“You know spies, a bunch of...” Sam looked at the child beside him and felt perplexed. “People who do undercover work to save other people...”  
Sam glanced at Fi, who ignored his looks for help and continued pulling out snacks for the guests.  
“Go raibh maith agat, Uncle Sam!” Charlie grinned from ear to ear. “Are you a spy?”  
“No, no. Your Uncle... dad?” Throwing up his hands, he leaned in and whispered to the child, “Mikey used to be a spy, but now he’s just a hero.”  
“A hero?” Charlie’s face was inquisitive.  
“Yup, he rescued you and me and even Fi from danger.”  
Charlie’s eyes grew. “Danger?”  
Fi stood across from Sam, her arms crossed. “That’s enough you two. Charlie, why don’t you go play in your room? Daidí will tell you more of his stories another time.”  
Sam shrugged, “He asked, I was trying to help.”  
Michael entered with Jesse and a young man. “This here is Keenan, and he’s looking for help with a job.”  
Fi added in, “Charlie’s in his room. What kind of job?”  
Michael motioned for Keenan to sit beside Sam on the sofa. Michael Fi and Jesse sat in wooden chairs across from them.  
Keenan’s voice was squeaky, and he was unable to hide his fear. “I got meself into a bit of... trouble. I spoke up about my dad being a Garda,” he saw the confusion on the two American’s face and added,”a policeman, and how I got out of trouble all the time...”  
Michael grunted. “You offered to do a job for them, got caught and their supply was confiscated along with the money, wasn’t it?”  
Keenan’s face showed surprise. “How’d you do that?”  
“It’s a gift he has.” Sam began to explain.  
Michael sniggered and motioned no with his hand. “No, I have a friend who is familiar with the case, a policeman.” Michael’s smile dissipated, his voice becoming serious. “How could you offer something so foolish and betray your father?”  
Keenan hung his head low. “It was a mistake. I was trying to prove that I’m not like my father...”  
The kid’s response twinged at Michael’s heart. He was all too familiar with running from a father you wanted no part of. But his father wasn’t a dead beat woman and child beater. “Why wasn’t the leader arrested? The police have all of the evidence they need.”  
“It can’t be traced back to him, only his handlers and the supplier. I barely escaped out of there.” Keenan looked at Michael anxiously. “He’s threatening to kill my dad and younger sister if I don’t break in and get his stuff.”  
Michael saw the hopelessness in the kids eyes. “Let’s see what we can do.”

“You’re lucky your son wasn’t hospitalized, you know,” Hughes leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk.   
“I know… I can’t understand his pull to these crooks,” Byrne spat out. “I never pushed him to be a guard. I let him choose his path. Clearly that was a mistake.”  
Hughes sent his friend, and old partner, a sympathetic nod. “We’re gonna get Kavanaugh this time, okay? I can feel it. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”  
Byrne shot Hughes a pained look. “I can’t be complaining here. You’re the one who's lost the most.”  
Hughes cleared his throat and firmly stated, “Let this be the last time he hurts anyone, okay?”  
Byrne nodded in agreement, his facial expressions less confident. “How can you be so sure?”  
“This can’t all be for nothing,” Hughes faltered. “He’s gotta go down.”  
“I’m sorry I asked… I know you’ll get him. I need someone to get through to my son too. He needs to know there’s a better way of living, an honest way,” Byrne rubbed his temples and stood. “Thanks for meeting with me.”  
Hughes stretched out his arm and shook his old partners hand firmly. “Don’t be afraid to bother me anytime for help, ‘Kay?”  
With more confidence now, Byrne shook his head and smiled with gratitude. “Thank you.”


	4. I Wouldn’t Bet On It

Michael stood leaning against the large pitchfork with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He smiled, pleased with the clean horse stall.  
Paistí{Patches}, their horse, seemed to bow his head in appreciation. Michael fondly recalled the day they purchased their horse.  
The trio had been in Ireland for 6 months and although they were comfortably settled, Charlie was home sick and cried for his grandma, even asking about his actual father. The three went out for a drive and they passed a meadow of horses. One stood out on its own, it’s tan and white patches catching Charlie’s eye. He told Michael, “I’m four now, I can do anything.”  
Knowing the main responsibilities would fall on him, Michael initially rejected the request. After a mile past the meadow, Michael eyed Charlie, then Fi and she nodded, giving him the okay. As they purchased the horse, Charlie’s face lit up, but he was nervous. He only pet the horse when Michael held him and stroked the soft fur with him. Michael could feel his heart soften.  
“Hey brother-wow it stinks in here!” Sam cut off Michael’s thoughts.  
“Hey Sam.” Michael chuckled. “I need to push the wheelbarrow outta here still.”  
“A horse, huh? Any other farm life out here you’re drawn to?”  
“Nope, just the one. Twas a present ta Charlie.”  
Michael cleared his throat and corrected himself in his American accent. “For Charlie.  
“Five years of that, I get it.”  
Michael walked past Sam and hung the pitchfork in the wall. “What was the excuse you all used to come visit for so long?”  
“We’re not on anyone’s radar. Plus we flew in under the radar to be safe. If anyone asks, Elsa and I are having a third honeymoon?”  
Michael raised his eyebrows. “Third?”  
Sam’s face lit up, “Oh yeah, Mexico, I’m not allowed to get into the details, but it was all inclusive.”  
Michael grimaced, but smirked. Sam hasn’t changed much in five years.  
“The second was in Italy. She had a corporate event there, but she had a long weekend of Sammy time the weekend before, and after. Trust me, I needed that down time in between.”  
“Yup, Sam, got it.”  
“So, we gonna plan this job tonight or meet tomorrow at the bar in the hotel? I’m buying.”  
Michael took his work gloves off and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. “About that... I want to help this kid, I do. I feel we could help him get his life back on track. But mixing up with some drug dealer? It’s pretty risky for a dead man to be helping people out with Sam Axe, isn’t it?”  
Sam was silent. In the past, Michael was reluctant to jump into a job because he was so wrapped up in his burn notice. Now, though, he had a family to care for, he was a family man.  
“We could work with the police...”  
“To help steal their stuff?”  
Sam rubbed his chin. “My thoughts were, we get this guy caught trying to steal his own stuff.”  
“He won’t risk breaking in himself, he’s got enough guys. We’d have to steal the drugs and money, and have this guy caught with them.  
“Or get him caught with other illegal things?” Sam ventured.  
“Fi doesn’t have any C4.”  
Dumbfounded, Sam rubbed his neck. “Fi without C4, never thought I’d see the day. We’ve all got things going for us, but I feel like we’ve gotta at least try.”  
“Sam, I love my family.” Michael’s heart swelled at his own acknowledgement.  
A genuine smile spread across his friend’s face. “I know Mikey, I’m happy for you. I promise it won’t involve any explosions, gunfire, or major risks, okay?”  
Michael smiled, “I wouldn’t bet on it, but thanks for trying.”

The phone rang in his hand. Peering at the name, he flipped it open and smirked thinking of how his wife abhorred this ancient cell phone. “Mícheál. I was just about to call you.”  
“Oh?” His friend sounded surprised.   
Their friendship was odd, but it worked. They often had a familiar hunch. Hughes was one who kept his true feelings hidden, but somehow Michael could reflect them without exposing that Hughes was experiencing the same thing. “Yeah, are we still on for drinks this evening?”  
Quickly, Michael said, “This week won’t work,” He paused, perhaps he was considering what he was saying. “Remember that case you told me about? The one with your friend’s kid?”  
As if he could forget the case that consumed him day and night. Anger flared up in his chest. Without lashing out, Hughes narrowed his eyes and asked defensively, “Yes?”  
“Do you have more intel?” Michael was now whispering gruffly.  
“Mícheál, I told you that in confidence,” Hughes reprimanded. “Why are you asking about it?”  
The other end was silent for a moment, then Michael stated briskly, “I can’t get into it now, but is there anything else you can tell me?”  
“Why are you asking?” Hughes wasn’t sure if he was shocked about Michael’s insistence or that audacity he had to bring up such a confidential matter, two things that were uncharacteristic of him.   
“Another time, okay?” Michael attempted to sound friendly. “I gotta go.”  
Hughes hung up the phone. What got into his friend? Hughes turned and peered longingly at the large window, wishing he found solace in the beautiful view. Maybe he needed to go on the scouting trips and survey Kavanaugh with his own two eyes.


End file.
